Daylight Insidious
by August Mayhem
Summary: Human nature is a petty despicable thing, and when one is wronged it's almost natural to want vengeance. Revenge is best served cold after all, and as the saying goes, the enemy of my enemy, is my friend. With this in mind, when Hermione is wronged she looks to the enemy of the one who wronged her for help. Enter one Draco Malfoy.
1. Chapter 1

I first want to apologise for this being so much later than I originally promised. Shit went down with my health in July and when I finally got back to my laptop it decided to give up the ghost. With smoke and a small electrical fire. So everything that I had written was suddenly lost. Without a job I had no money to get a new laptop (did some writing at the local library) it took me a while to get things back on track.

So without further ado, I give to you My Readers, the first chapter of Daylight Insidious (rewrite of Testing 1, 2, 3):

Vacantly staring at his breakfast, grey eyes didn't notice a small brown owl flying overhead until it swooped down and dropped the folded up parchment on his beans, toast, and sausage. He glared even harder at the bird as it flew off; apparently it was smart enough not to stay around. A quick shift of his eyes told him no one was looking at him and he opened the letter.

 _Meet me in the Astronomy Tower at midnight tonight. We need to talk._

It was unsigned. A bit of his natural curiosity was piqued at who would send him such a letter. It could have been any number of girls really; he had grown up since First Year and was no longer such a little pratling. Now he was a gloriously sexy prat, and while not all found his personality attractive, most teen witches weren't going after him for said personality. Deciding to go, because he really was curious, he would be sure to err on the side of caution. To do otherwise would be daft, and he very much was not that.

At ten minutes to midnight, it had been an agonising wait for fellow student to make their way to bed. The note had been on the periphery of his thoughts since breakfast. Being half-distracted, thinking up possibilities of what it could be, what could be possibly be so urgent or needed as to send a an anonymous note, never mind who the sender was, hadn't made for the best combination in keeping one's attention in classes…

But finally! It was time. Even going slow would have his arriving a few minutes early. If he was lucky, the other party would be punctual and arrive exactly at, which meant he could set the stage.

He conveniently ignored the fact that he had only arrived early due to his damnable curiosity and how it drove him when aroused. By whatever godly blessing he had managed to somehow keep that quirk of his under wraps. At a magical school. Surrounded by children. An exasperated sigh came silently as he wondered over the oblivious nature of his schoolmates.

When quiet footsteps rose from the stairs just outside the door, he sunk back into the shadows, even knowing his disillusionment charm was perfect. As the person moved from stairs, through the shallow corridor and into the room, one window was perfectly situated to shine the soft moonlight on a face.

Well. Of all people, that was one he definitely would not have guessed. And most certainly not expected. What on earth could the two of them have to talk about?

"Malfoy, I know you're here. You've been distracted all day, so I'm assuming your curiosity got the better of you." _Again_ , was muttered but the wind carried it to his ears.

So someone had noticed. Unsurprising really, it was bound to happen at some point, by someone. Just his luck it was this one. At least it hadn't spread, which given the student opposite, it very easily could have. Still, that little observation would most likely be kept close-to-chest, if only for use of leverage at a later date.

"And what exactly do you think we could possibly have to talk about? We certainly don't run the same circles. We aren't friends. What do you have to gain from talking to me, _Granger_?"

He let his spell slip away and stepped out from the shadows, a cinnamon glare told him he didn't cow her.

"A mutually beneficial circumstance for us both."

"In what manner? There are plenty of ways in which you could benefit from me…but I fail to see where _I_ benefit from _your_ aid." Gliding steps brought them closer and he towered over her smaller form, though not once did she fold or cower. If anything, his imposing posture only made hers straighten more; she would not yield.

"Revenge."

It was a simple enough concept, really. But revenge on whom, for what, and why did she think he needed it? He was quite capable of obtaining his own vengeance, and there was nothing he needed that she could provide. One slender dark eyebrow lifted in inquiry.

"For me. I want revenge. On one (particularly brainless) useless, ginger-haired _idiot_."

It was hard not to smirk, it really was. The Weasel, according to the Rumor Mill of Hogwarts™, had been found in a rather provocative position with a young lady who was _not_ his girlfriend of eleven months. Supposedly a rather loud, and to some, entertaining, row had followed. While he had been nowhere near, students said they could hear the argument with ease, four corridors and a level away.

She saw the tilt of his mouth and scowled, "I don't care whom he cheated on me _with_ ," He doubted that. Unquestionably, at some point in the near future (or possibly later so as not to have any connection with this event, because Granger could be unpredictable like that) Ms. Brown would come down with some kind of affliction. Chaos of any kind in the House of Lions was always entertaining.

"But I won't stand for the fact that he _did_ cheat. I cannot, _will_ _not_ , let that go."

Her fingers twitched as if they longed to clench around a freckled neck and squeeze until satisfied. The young Malfoy looked at the witch before him ponderously. He could give credit where it was due, if he was correct in his thinking, this _would_ piss the Weasel off something fierce. And it gained him a legitimate, invited even, entry into the Pride, all without much effort on his part.

He'd only been half paying attention to her continued spiel but her next words caught his attention fast.

"-ansy rather humiliated you when she got caught sleeping with that lack-witted Fifth Year in Hufflepuff, whilst still dating you. I mean, bad enough she cheated," Granger clearly had a dim view of cheaters. But then, so too, did he.

"But you'd think she'd be ambitious about it; a professor, unforgiveable as that may be, or some other potentially advantageous adult. But a fellow student, two years younger than you? And a Hufflepuff at that? That's just embarrassing."

Malfoy couldn't help his teeth clenching tight at her words. It still stung, and he had been, still was really, humiliated by her actions. And really, Granger had the right of it. What better way to get back at those who'd hurt them, than by turning to the opposite of what their exes are.

There would be nothing more demeaning for Pansy than for him to find comfort, and then form a relationship, with not only a Gryffindor, but one who was a mudblood. Even if her words did spike his anger, Draco was aware her words had been carefully chosen to goad him. Still, he would willingly walk into her clutches. Nothing to say he couldn't create his own traps later, but for now, this would appease his battered-now-angry ego.

He caught Granger's chin in elegant fingers and slid them across her cheek to cup her face as he leaned close. Their mouths were almost brushing when he murmured, "You've got a deal."

While she was still frozen in shock, Draco quickly replaced his disillusion charm and slipped down the stairs.

Hermione stood in shadowed room, dust motes dipping and falling in the moonbeams, wondering what had just happened. She had carefully planned her words, scripted them just so, as to incite his hurt pride and anger. She had expected shouting, threats, verbal abuse even, and quite possibly spells. She _had not_ , not even in her wildest imaginings, expected him to crowd close to her and cup her cheek before almost kissing her while agreeing to her, thus far unverbalised, plan.

She huffed lightly when she finally came back to awareness, her new partner in crime gone, and nothing actually determined beyond their new association. It made her want to growl with irritation. She liked having a plan of attack and then moving forward. But Malfoy was gone, and she didn't know what he was hoping for, or would plan, and she couldn't make concrete plans by herself, beyond theoretical goals, because undoubtedly the Slytherin would have his own ideas and he was not what one could ever call mindful.

Finally, standing by her lonesome at the most 'secretive' place in the school became ridiculous and she turned towards her tower. Nothing more could be done tonight. Tomorrow would bring its own set of problems and it would her well to have gotten at least six hours of sleep. She could find some way to meet with Malfoy again on the morrow and proceed from there.

Breakfast was slightly muted with the fall of the first snow. The Gryffindor table was only half awake at this hour, though preservation instincts left a clear circle around one particular bushy-haired student. Neville was inside the circle though he had been there before the Head Girl sat down. They were later joined Harry, and enjoyed a conversation about their current herbology project in relation to past studies.

Half an hour before the end of breakfast, when all the late-sleeping students were in attendance, general interest was piqued when the morning mail flight flew off after dropping their burdens and Hermione opened a letter that let out a serene string of music that floated around the air with a blithe indulgence. When the letter was fully unfolded, a cascade of shimmering gold left behind an enchanting image of a blue-white snow covered landscape, the dawn sun glowing in warm rose-and-gold tones around the edges of the trees.

Hermione gazed at the scene of cold, picturesque tranquility until it faded. When it was finally gone from her sight, she closed her eyes and tried to breathe in the serenity the vision had instilled.

"Whoever sent you that also wrote you something. So, you know, stop smelling the roses and look at them instead."

Hermione groaned in the back of her throat, "Harry! That's not how that saying goes!"

Neville chuckled at their interaction, but Hermione did look down at the neat script on the folded parchment.

 _The exceptional strength of your intelligence and heart only reinforce your beauty in the cold world around me._

 _Yours._

"Well. If I'm not mistaken, that looks like a note from a secret admirer."

Hermione made a note that Neville could read upside down with alarming speed, and then resolved to send a hex his way when his words caused Parvati to come fluttering over, with Faye and Romilda trailing her.

If anyone hadn't heard and then seen the opening of her letter, those three and Lavender would have the knowledge spread to the entirety of the castle within a few short hours.

Sucking in a deep breath, the Head Girl tried to reclaim that feeling of quiet stillness. She would need it to get through the day.

Thankfully, when her not-so-deep wells of patience had run dry from all and sundry asking her about the damn letter, Hermione possessed a rather frightening stare that could turn into a glare with just a bit more force.

Unfortunately, lunch proved that this talent she had developed would likely be a permanent addition.

A single letter, delivered by a stately gold-brindled barn owl, unfurled into a dozen charmed paper sunflowers.

 _This is the closest thing I could find in nature that equalled the gold in your eyes when you laugh._

 _Yours._

Surprisingly, they even gave off a faint sensory experience, sunlight and a breeze over fresh water. Hermione found it calming; could easily imagine a field far away from the nosy twits she schooled with and was forced to live beside. Though, as Head Girl she had been given a suite in a more central tower. Malfoy, as Head Boy had a similar suite in the same tower.

 _Draco!_ She reminded herself, _You need to start thinking of him as Draco, or this will fall apart entirely, due to no one believing it._

The afternoon was double Charms and Arithmancy, and thank all the gods she knew that both classes were too full of taking down notes and instructions to bother her with any nonsense about the letters.

At dinner there was a third letter, a simple one that appeared and gently hovered over her plate. No grand theatrics, unnoticeable to all but those in the immediate vicinity. With reflexes that would impress any Seeker, Hermione snatched the parchment offering and stashed it in her bag before those surrounding her could notice it. For those who had noticed it, a vicious glare kept any comments from being opined.

Sadly, one such person had not been gifted with any amount of brains and thus opened his mouth, which gave those opposite a horrifying display of the half-masticated food inside.

"Wha'cha ge' Hermy?" The glare that was sent his way would have done any basilisk proud. Everyone else averted their eyes with all the deference prey gives a predator.

Hermione had never been fond of nicknames, but Ron's just made her want to destroy things. It had that effect even when they _had_ been dating. The coldness in her voice could have halted the melting of the ice caps.

"Because it has somehow escaped your notice Ronald, I am of no particular inclination to speak with you. And even if I were, which I must, _again_ , point out I'm _**not**_ , it is no business of yours what I receive in the post. At dinner, or breakfast, nor indeed at any point of the day or night or any circumstance in which we are forcibly in the same area!

" _If_ it does happen to concern you, in a manner I can't imagine, I'll be sure to let you know. Until that time, kindly avoid opening your mouth around me. It's disgusting, and your words aren't much better. Perhaps you should turn your attention to Lavender, she's looking rather lonely on your other side."

And then Ron, poor Ron, did something so very, very stupid. He opened his mouth again. God save the idiots.

" Mione! Of course it is! What if it's cursed? What if someone put bubotuber pus in it? That's happened before! It's a dangerous world y'know. You're our friend; can never tell what the slimy snakes will do to you," He looked 'shiftily' at the Slytherin table, before turning entreatingly to his visually challenged friend for support, "You have to be careful, right Harry?"

If anything, her glare turned harder. Harry, bless him, knew enough to stay way the hell away from this interaction and immediately looked at Neville with desperation and asked a vague question about herbology in an blatant attempt to escape his two friends.

"It is a letter addressed to _me_ , Ronald. It wouldn't have been your business when you were my boyfriend, and it _damn_ well isn't now! Nor are we _friends_."

Fed up with the day, Hermione stood, unaware that her magic was reacting to her emotions. Her normally bushy hair was creating a veritable halo around her, magical lightning streaking along the strands. The Great Hall ceiling mimicked the thunderstorm, rain pelting down on students (heretofore unprecedented, as the weather had only ever been seen and never felt), lightning flashing ominously amongst dark clouds and the thunder booming out.

On a normal day, Hermione could be found in the library if she were stressed. Today, while stressed to the extreme, the library would not suit. No, she needed to do some damage, break things apart and watch it all burn. It was the only way to deal with the vexation currently boiling through her.

She quickly found an unused classroom behind the Grand Staircase and spelled out every protection charm she knew. The Room of Requirement would be better, but she needed this now and it would take too long getting to the seventh floor.

Unbeknownst to her, Flitwick had gleefully observed her magic interacting with Hogwarts' and had followed after her. Partly out of professorial duty to make sure nothing befell her, but mostly the Charms Master was inquisitive, and wanted to see what might happen next.

He spelled himself invisible and silent as she passed the staircase, and snuck into the room before it was locked. With a master's discretion he added to the protections in the room and then sat back to watch one of the most powerful witches of this generation.

Hermione breathed deep and did her best to centre her mind before she began casting. If she wanted to break things, she needed things _to_ break. Desks and chairs came first, an association impossible to ignore given that she was in a school, but then other furniture, and then dishes and glass tureens, vases, statues, chandeliers, her magic flowed through her, imagination given reign.

Casting bursting hexes at the wooden furniture was satisfying, but so was levitating whole pieces and smashing them into the walls and floor. Explosions were created and her wand danced as she made the fire sweep through the air to catch hold of new fragments to devour.

Professor Flitwick watched, an odd smile tilting his lips, twirled his wand thrice and let his magic gently, unobtrusively seep into the cracks. It would ever so slowly gather the destroyed fragments and then make them whole again while changing their form.

Eventually, her flash-bright ire wore down, but in no way ready to face the school again, Hermione created magical targets. Enchanted to move in random patterns, she felt this was a good way to concentrate and expel her frustration. Flitwick charmed the targets to multiply if they weren't hit in the centre.

Hermione thought to start with piercing hexes, aimed carefully, remembered the night she caught Ron making out with Lavender, and breathed the incantation. The spell burst forth and slammed through the target, taking out the inner three circles. A grim smile later, she sought another mark and pushed as hard as she could. The conjured target disintegrated. Two unusable targets later, Flitwick used an area-wide charm that would make the remaining targets charge in arbitrary formations.

The next spell Hermione cast missed as the target jerked sideways, and she yelped when it and the three nearby rushed towards her. To her unending embarrassment, the first thing that came to mind was the Second Year bubble stream spell. Forcing herself to focus on combat spells, Hermione let loose a barrage of spells that dealt damage to the targets.

In an impressive feat of unintentional magic, her spells started to link together creating a chain of magical destruction. In the Romanic magical tradition, each spell has its own incantation to be paired with a specific wand pattern. But master duellers and charmsmiths could do a continuous weaving, wherein the flow of a wand had no break and the traditional pattern for a spell can be ignored or shortened or tweaked.

Flitwick fairly bounced with glee, hidden as he was. While spell chains were taught in Seventh Year, it was a concept many struggled to perform even if they understood the theory just fine. Of those who could manage, few ever became truly proficient. Rather like the Patronus Charm. And yet here was a student who not only understood the theory perfectly, but had _accidentally_ (!) created a spell chain!

Almost two hours after Hermione entered the classroom she finally halted, tired and worn out. With her magic just simmering from the constant use, the Head Girl walked over to a chair (one of the numerous transfigurations that had eventually played into her venting via spell-casting) and flopped into it.

Her eyes closed and she breathed deep, relaxing in the absence of feeling. Had she not been so exhausted, there would have been triumphant feelings of pride for the magic she had pulled off. Even now, there was the faintest flicker of satisfaction, but it was smoothed over by the empty feeling of being drained.

Flitwick subtly cancelled his spells and cast a temporary illusion over the door that affected all the senses. He could slip out without Hermione being any the wiser, and she would not hear or see anything unusual. And it would disable itself well before she would exit herself.

At length, Hermione felt energized enough to return the room to straights, and pulled out the letter that had started this misbegotten evening.

 _As of Friday we will be starting a long-term potions project that requires partners. I have ensured you'll be mine. I will continue to send 'secret admirer' things, and on the last Hogsmeade weekend before the hols I will take you on a date._

 _D_

Hermione scowled at the presumptive tone of the letter, and the fact that Malfoy thought he could just order her around like snapping his fingers. _Draco, you ninny, you need to remember it's_ Draco _._ Though really, when he was being an arse, _Malfoy_ was entirely deserved.

Forcing the matter from her mind, Hermione made her way back to her quarters, left her book-bag on the large ornate desk that wouldn't be out of place in a CEO's office, and flopped on the bed. Normally she would be up for a few more hours doing schoolwork, but she was drained from working out her frustration and the emotional exhaustion of dealing with people. A quick swapping spell that was more difficult than it had been for years, and she was ensconced under her bed covers, comfy in her pajamas.

As she faded into sleep the idle thought of gratefulness that the Head Boy and Girl had separate living spaces and could decorate to their own desires passed through her mind. If they'd been in connected suites that were kept to their house colours, it would have looked like Christmas had vomited all over the shared space.

The next morning started with the vague trepidation that the previous day would be repeated. As the day pressed on, her tension mounted when nothing continued to happen. Still, come the evening meal, no owls presented themselves and Hermione relaxed when the food vanished and students began to filter away.

As the sun rose on Friday morning, Hermione woke feeling somewhat relaxed after the mentally taxing day before. Upon finishing her morning ablutions, the Head Girl gathered her required supplies for the day's classes and had a quick, simple breakfast whereafter she made sure to be inside the potions classroom a full ten minutes before class officially began.

At five to, the majority of the students scuttled in and took their seats. Malfoy was the last to enter before the door magically closed and locked. It was a classroom policy that began after OWLs; those who didn't make it to class on time didn't deserve (or care apparently) to learn what he had to teach. Surprisingly, it was one policy of Snape's Hermione quite agreed with. Nevermind that it was their final year and NEWTs were coming up. Besides, if they didn't know to be early, or exactly on time after six years with the man, then really they deserved to miss class.

When Malfoy sat down beside her, Hermione knew the late entrance had been on purpose. The smaller numbers of the NEWT class meant there were more empty desks than not. Still, the Gryffindors tended to buddy up with friends unless otherwise told. The best move they could make in the circumstances, though hold the jury on best decision.

Draco could have sat anywhere, a desk to himself, paired up with another Slytherin, preferably one who was decent in potions, but he also had advanced knowledge of the coming project and was aware that they would be grouped as one from each house. May as well get the smart one from the get-go.

He dumped his book bag on the desk and gracefully slumped into the wooden chair.

"Hello Mudblood."

Hermione tensed at the slur but otherwise deigned to not look up from the page she was reading, "Morning Ferret."

Both purposefully ignored the stares they were drawing from the other students. They all jumped to attention when Snape strode to the front.

"Congratulations on finishing the _basic_ review. Now that you are where you should have been at the beginning of the year, we can finally move on to more intricate processes of your abysmal education."

A quick slash of his wand brought a furled scroll from his desk into his hand.

"This is a long term project, to be completed before the winter holiday. Since we had to review a few principles," his sneer here showed exactly what Snape thought of _that_ , "Your time to work on the project has been shortened. You will have exactly twelve weeks from start to finish. If your potion is not completed in that time, you will marked on what you did accomplish, and marks will be removed if it is a potion that could have been accomplished within the given time frame.

"Your overall grade will be based on quality of your materials, your methods, documentation of steps taken, and of course whatever product you produce at the end. You will be using your own ingredient supplies and if you need more or need a particular element you do not possess, as you couldn't possibly think of buying something beyond the basic set," Another sneer, "You will either need to locate it yourself or order it. If you have questions, you will explore _all_ avenues _before_ coming to me, if you need to book a lab for work outside the class period, you will come to me."

Inky eyes stared them all down, even a few of the Slytherins wilted under that forceful look.

"Beyond these facile instructions, your time is your own. If anyone fails to meet any of the requirements, the entire group will fail the project." This time the smirk was aimed at the Gryffindor half of the classroom.

A simple gesture had the list of potions on the blackboard and the students quietly murmured to their neighbours about being partners. Shock was the group emotion, because never before had there been so few insults.

A scowl made the murmurs stop and every body froze a moment.

"I will be deciding your partners for this project." He looked about the students and thin lips curled meanly.

"As there seems to be an almost equal number of students between the Houses, pairs will be made up of one from either House." No words were said, but when obsidian eyes looked, and fingers flicked, students moved.

Hermione and Draco were ignored. While the class was paired up, two Slytherins ended up together because they did have more in numbers, the Head Boy glanced over the list of potential options. There were enough that each group could do a different one. He quickly picked the hardest available and spelled their names next to their chosen potion on the board, giving his female counterpart no time to object.

Hermione glanced at him from the corner of her eyes, irritation evident. But as she looked over the list and then flipped to the appropriate page in her text she grudgingly admitted he wasn't incorrect in his assumption.

Of the available options, though all were challenging, theirs was the most. Undoubtedly, Amortentia would be taken by one of the girls, Draught of Living Death probably by one of the boys, likely a Slytherin. But Morrigan's Brew was theirs. The ingredients were challenging to get and required impeccable and precise timing. Though due to said timing, and some of the ingredients, they would need to submit a request for a pass from the headmaster himself that would allow them to miss classes and be out past curfew. Because though the Head Students had later curfews than the prefects and regular students, they did still have them.

Hermione began to scribble notes about when each ingredient needed to be gathered and specific details about the brewing process. Malfoy looked over her shoulder and nodded.

"Enjoy that Granger, I'll set about delegating tasks to make sure we succeed."

A mousy brown eyebrow rose sharply. "Really? And by that you mean I'll be doing all the work." She mimicked a surprised look, "Except that means you trust my skills!" Her expression narrowed, "And we all know that isn't true. Which leaves me to think that you'll be doing all the practical work, and I'll just do the theory and write up. Because let's be honest, I'm certainly better at that than you are."

She turned back to her parchment to finish outlining a simple calendar for them. She could break it down later into preparation and actual brewing, along with the journal they'd need to supply for everything they did.

In an unexpected gesture, Malfoy waited for her to repack all her things before they walked out together and made their way to the library. Hermione could feel the looks following them out. While it was usually Ron or Harry (though more Ron in the later years) that crossed paths with Malfoy, Hermione wasn't exactly unknown for doing the same.

And while the two of them being civil wasn't unheard of, it was rare. Especially the level of cordiality they were affording each other.

When they reached the library Hermione took the lead and they wound their way about to a secluded series of desks that were well lit, but far form the common areas. They wouldn't be disturbed here. Unless people got curious.

Draco scowled at that thought. He couldn't be too vicious with his words, because the Gryffindor would up and leave, and then he'd have to deal with frosty silence throughout their project. And! He was supposed to work closer with her so they could work on their plan to extract revenge.

So. Insults were out. He _had_ matured, had no choice but to with the covert, stagnated war going on. Still, Granger was an intellectual. Mocking should be all right. Then again, she was also a temperamental lion. Grey eyes closed with a sigh. He'd wait for her to make the first move. Probably safer that way. And smarter.

He watched the Gryffindor as she took a decent stack of parchment and then sliced them with spells so the larger sheets multiplied into much smaller ones. The pile was then split into two and, with a fancy twirl Draco didn't recognise, began to coalesce into the very distinct form of a small memorandum book with plain brown binding. Hermione smiled down at her creations and then murmured a spell-chant whilst flicking her wand between the two books.

She noticed his raised eyebrow when she looked up.

"It connects the two so that whatever is written in one will show up in the other, sort of an immediate messenger; makes for easier communication. We can write notes on progress, leaves messages for each other. Anything. It means we won't have to be together as much, which I imagine you might prefer."

A smirk and a nod were her reply and Hermione was struck by the revelation of how well they could read each other and communicate without words. It was brushed off as six years of near-constant close living and know-thy-enemy stuff.

Draco was struck by a different thought and pulled out his wand to add his own spells. The first was a charm that made individual pages merge into the book itself (convenient for when one ran out of pages or had a random page of relevant notes), the second was a security charm that only allowed the owners to see the writing beyond a cursory glance. It wouldn't hold up against anyone really trying to find out its secrets, but should be sufficient for the school.

"I haven't come across that first spell. What was it?" For all the mudbl- _muggleborn, rethink your thoughts, this has to work_ – could be demanding, bossy, and a know-it-all, her tone had been polite and curious. They were both putting forth effort for this thing of theirs. Potions project aside.

"It's a guild spell, devised in the beginning of the tenth century. It takes outside pages and individual sheets, and incorporates them into the whole of the book, or journal or whatever you want to call it. It began with the monastery copiers and was later refined by the Book Binder's Guild and was sold to the other guilds because of its usefulness.

"It fell out of guild use with the advent of the printing press, but a lot of travellers still used it up until the twentieth century. People just didn't go out and travel or explore the way they used to do. It was really popular during the Age of Exploration and Discovery, which only began a little later than the Muggles'," He gave her a superior look at her astonished one, "Yes, we had one too. In any case, it was a period of almost constant creation, new potions, spells, enchanting was an extremely popular and well-paying career option, new plants were discovered, new animals, and the uses for their properties all greatly expanded in those two centuries."

He so enjoyed the brunette's gobsmacked expression. Not that he wasn't just as intelligent as she was, but Granger took particular joy in spewing out facts to other people. It was irritating and aggravating most of the time. So it was a rare occurrence he was able to turn her speechless.

"But like I said, it fell out of popularity due to a host of reasons and by the time Newt Scamander began his travels to write his informational book on creatures, it was basically out of use. The Old Families have the knowledge, it's written in most of their Grimoires, and many have personal twists to them; and the Guilds still have it in their records. It's just not a well known spell anymore."

Hermione looked at him, nibbling on her lip, she desperately wanted to ask about the other spell Malfoy had used, but he was being unusually affable and she didn't want to break their accord at the moment. He seemed to know what she wanted anyway.

"The second, because I know you're dying to ask, is a simple security hex. Only we can see what we write. It's not terribly strong, but should suit our purposes well enough. It also means," His lips curled in sly mischief, a look she had never seen before, "That we can discuss plans for the Twit and the Weasel, without need for verbal conference. Can only help us in the long run, wouldn't you say?"

Hermione couldn't help the matching grin spreading across her face. Damn if she didn't actually maybe kind of like Malfoy in this moment.

Their Double Potions morning passed as they looked through reference books. Hermione was looking forward to gathering Liquid Moonlight during the magical Autumnal Equinox, which took place almost a full two weeks after the muggle one. Malfoy had assigned her to acquire that particular ingredient as a magical virgin needed to hold the vial to collect the moonbeams.

When not even a blush, let alone an embarrassed or angry remark came to pass, he was surprised that all she did was glance over the paragraph that denoted the instructions and nod. Granger seemed to have thicker skin than both her idiotic corners. Though, Potter had mellowed out in Sixth Year; Draco made his own assumptions about the celebrity finally getting laid.

As the noon bell clanged from its tower, the two of them gathered their strewn collection of books, notes, quills and ink and made plans to meet in the Head's Common after dinner to talk shop, as it were.

Unfortunately for them, the staircases chose then to be fussy and refused to let them move to the main floor. Instead they were deposited on the fourth floor, where a series of doors either refused entry entirely, or didn't let them out once they were in.

Half of the lunch hour was gone by the time they stepped from a cupboard that was connected to a hallway at the end of a room under the stairs. They were both frazzled from what they'd encountered, and hungry from the long hours of study. Neither of them noticed the Third Year Hufflepuffs. The Hufflepuffs certainly noticed them.

By dinner, exactly four and half hours after lunch, it was proved that the Rumor Mill of Hogwarts™ was indeed the fastest way to spread information. More so if the information wasn't correct. And as with most rumors, it got exaggerated the more it spread.

So when Hermione walked into the Great Hall, weary of lugging her book bag around (she'd signed out a few references, in addition to her usual class texts, and hadn't yet had the opportunity to drop them in her room), she didn't pay attention to the sudden drop in volume that heralded their entrance.

Ignoring it in favour of sitting with her friends and satisfying her ravenous stomach, she didn't happen to see Ron (sitting several people down) trembling in his seat as his face turned red with indignant anger. So she was quite unprepared when he suddenly began yelling at her.

"WHAT THE _HELL_ ARE YOU DOING WITH _MALFOY_ HERMIONE!? WHAT IS _**WRONG**_ WITH YOU? DON'T YOU KNOW HE'S OUR ENEMY? HE'S A GODDAMN _SLYTHERIN_ FOR FUCK'S SAKE! A LYING, COWARDLY LITTLE SNAKE! A DEATH EATER JUST WAITING TO KILL US ALL! I KNOW YOU LOVE ME AND YOU'RE ONLY DOING IT TO MAKE ME JEALOUS, BUT I'M WITH LAVENDER NOW AND THAT DOESN'T MEAN YOU SHOULD WHORE YOURSELF OUT TO THE FIRST PRICK YOU SEE, IN A PATHETIC ATTEMPT TO GET MY ATTENTION. YOU ARE HENCEFORTH _FORBIDDEN_ FROM _**EVER**_ SEEING HIM AGAIN!"

The silence in the Hall was absolute; the staff too, were mute in shock, even Snape. Gasps of incredulity and outrage echoed when the word whore was violently expelled from an enraged mouth.

While Hermione was momentarily stupefied by the verbal bombshell that just exploded on her, the longer it went on, the quicker her own wrath grew.

When the rant concluded, Ron's arms crossed his chest, a cocksure demeanor cloaking him in utter surety that his demands would be acquiesced to with no delay. As Hermione slowly stood, head bowed and her own limbs trembling under the force of her brightly-burning emotions. Ginny, Neville, and Harry (those closest to her at the table) winced, and were quick to duck under the solid strength of the centuries-old wooden table. With luck, it would hold up and shield them from the potency of the Head Girl's anger.

The other students in the relative vicinity followed their example. They may have wanted to see how it played out, most in the Hall did, but everything that followed was crystal clear in the blanket silence and the words cast a perfect image.

Professor McGonagall finally came back to her mind as Hermione stood and was halfway to standing herself when a gnarled hand bade her remain seated. She looked into watery blue eyes with exasperated worry, but to her consternation the Headmaster's gaze was focused outward.

If the entirety of Hogwarts had been scared at the magic pouring off the Head Girl not two days ago, it was a pittance compared to what she was doing now. Several of the professors were actually watching with avid interest regarding many theories of magic and which ones the seventeen year-old was currently breaking. Fortunately for them, Flitwick had the presence of mind to set up a series of recording charms that would aid in the writing of their future dissertations.

The shadowed corners of the Hall stretched and curled, bleeding darkness until even the host of candles were just a dim light above their heads; and none could see where walls met floor or ceiling. Those hiding under the Gryffindor table got a perfect view of the girl's feet, several inches off the ground, every footstep creating glimmering cracks of shadowed light that faded into the ephemeral when the foot lifted for the next step.

An ominous wind blew just out of reach, never actually touching anyone. And even Ron, currently at his most thick-headedness, could tell the witch he'd previously felt entirely justified yelling at was beyond furious, and that maybe he should be worried for himself. A quick glance looking for support found everyone gone from the immediate area and that maybe grew to a certainty.

Hermione, when she spoke, was very contained; and though she in no way raised her voice, her words echoed throughout the room.

" _You_. Forbid _me_. From ever seeing him again? On what grounds Ronald Weasley? You possess no control over my life, and I have neither _want_ nor _need_ of it. I am _well_ aware that Draco is a Slytherin, and I _relish_ that he can challenge me, intellectually and as a person. I find his company _infinitely_ preferable when compared to an _insignificant_ and _slovenly_ wizard who has _only_ managed to get this far through the help of his friends; a child so laughably jealous of his supposed best friend; a child that can't be found within his absurdly large family and resents everyone _else_ because of it. "

Cinnabar eyes darkened until they were a void that wiped out the light.

"A _disheveled_ and _negligent pureblood_ who possesses no concept, let alone comprehension, of what the word _manners_ means. A traitorous wizard who somehow _lied_ his way into the House of the Brave and Chivalrous. An _incompetent_ who spews filth against a quarter of the school population declaring them to be harbingers of destruction while his own are paragons of the light! Let me then be the one to remind you, Ronald Weasley, that Peter Pettigrew was a fucking Gryffindor, and he betrayed those he held closest to him. And to add insult to injury, you never realized that your _own_. _Goddamned_. _Pet_! Was one of those Death Eaters you so despise!"

Ron was cowering before her, trembling for an entirely different reason now, crumpled on the floor. Magic seemed to stretch Hermione, making her look impossibly tall.

"But as to me never seeing him again… Since your brain is the size of a pea and can hold no more than a single thought at a time, allow me to re-inform you that _I_ am the _Head Girl_ ; and Draco my counterpart. We share a tower and will spend a good portion of the rest of the year _together_ , just doing our duties. Ignoring that position, we are partnered for a school project worth half my class grade. And I am _looking forward_ to working on it with him."

Where there had been lightning last time, erratic and powerful, it was now the slow creeping cold. Hoarfrost had seeped into the cracks between the stone walls and spread outwards until everything was edged in sharply jutting glacial crystal; only barely softened by shadow. Beautific patterns of crystal ice covered the stone floors, and those hiding under the table whimpered at the sudden cold, but ultimately refused to move.

"As to your defamation of my character. _I. Do. Not._ _ **Whore!**_ Myself out to the nearest prick. I think you'll find that's your _precious_ _Lavender's_ calling in life. It has come to my attention that in the past two weeks _alone_ , despite supposedly dating _you_ , she has had dalliances with a Slytherin, a Hufflepuff, and two Ravenclaws, all of varying years. _Not_ all of them male. Just because _you_ have no standards when it comes to your relationships, sexual or otherwise, do not _presume_ to think you can dictate _mine_."

As Hermione walked passed an almost catatonic Ron, the magical pressure eased and the chill receded. By the time Hermione had gotten to the doors, she looked exhausted and wan, sick from the amount of magic expended. When she collapsed, one hand reaching for the door handle, Draco was the only one who thought to move. He didn't quite run to her side, but turned her over, cast a quick generic diagnostic and then cradled her in his arms as he carried her to the infirmary.

The rest of the school watched on, still struck dumb with shock.

Hogwarts' Head Girl ended staying in the Infirmary Wing until late Monday afternoon, after classes had ended, of course. Friends, professors, even the odd younger student who was impressed (and terrified) by her show of power had visited her over the weekend, despite her not being awake until mid-morning on Sunday.

Flitwick had worked some magic with the recordings he'd taken so that in the end, Hermione had a viewing crystal and got to see what everyone else had been in awe of. He even shared the magical readings and matched the ebb and flow in conjunction with the viewing crystal.

The whole of Sunday afternoon was then taken over by a meeting between no less than five professors and Hermione, all discussing theories about what she'd done, and how it was tangible proof of some as-of-yet purely theoretical concept, and how it in turn posited new theories about the interaction between magical creatures and a magical environment, and the previously unchallenged ideas of accidental/emotional magic and how regimented study meant it could not happen (except in rare instances).

Draco had spent his weekend reevaluating his- he hesitated to call it a relationship- with Granger. Over the course of their schooling together, he had long become accustomed to the fact that the muggleborn was highly intellectual and knew an intimidating amount of things, both magical and mundane. She knew little beyond the bare bones of upper magical society and how they operated, but that had more to do with unwritten rules and the fact that her friends were from a different caste.

The Longbottom and Bones heirs could have aided in that regard, but neither were as close to the girl as the Weasel and Potter. While she didn't excel with a wand the way Potter did, most especially in Defense, she usually managed magical feats before the majority of the class. And, he had no doubt that she had a repertoire of spells that were obscure and mundane, or fallen out of use, simply because the chit liked to read and could absorb knowledge like few others.

And the Friday past showed she was a powerful witch. Draco had long subscribed to his father's ideology of purebloods being the better breed and having more powerful magic. But he was also his mother's son, and she had taught him as a Black. Observe those around you to find their weakness, their strength, and their wants. Observing is the best proof. Because you might hold knowledge of a certain trait, but humans were fickle creatures and needs and circumstance could change with the wind. And people with it.

So yes, he still believed that the Pureblood Way was the correct way to continue life; they were accorded power for deeds long recorded into history and that power had created and shaped the world the way it was today. He also knew that he liked having power. And having power over others was only useful so long as there were others to lord it over.

So in the grand scheme of things, the Dark Lord's plan to wipe out the muggles and the muggleborn was decidedly infantile. Without muggles, the muggleborn would disappear. And while some would agree that this was preferable, it also meant that the halfbloods would soon follow them. And then there would only be purebloods, and whatever half-breeds came from mixing with the sentient creatures like Veela.

And _that_ did pose a problem. Because Draco was not stupid, and he was capable of using his eyes. Ever since Fourth Year when Potter stood side by side, and in many ways eclipsed the other Champions in the Tournament (all legally adults, with three years more schooling than the Gryffindor), Draco had had to take a step back and observe those around him. Longbottom was as pure as he was, with a history of magic even more so, and he was subpar in magical performance for his first five years of school. Though he had noticed with the advent of their sixth year, the chubby boy had a new wand, so it could have been that his previous wasn't a good match.

But looking at those in his year only, there really was little variation between pureblood, halfblood, and muggleborn (if you ignored academics and specialties like Longbottom's herbology, Potter's defense, or the Ravenclaw Patil's arithmancy) in terms of pure magical ability. It was like any other thing in life, some were better at one thing over others.

Purebloods weren't any more powerful than a muggleborn; in fact he'd be hard pressed to find a pureblood that could have done what Granger managed (uncontrolled too).

When he looked at Crabbe and Goyle, whose fathers were first cousins who married twins somewhat closely related to them, Draco didn't need advanced intellect to see the correlation. While the Crabbe and Goyle families were more insular in their marriage choices, the fact was that every British wizarding family could find a relative that hailed from every other magical family somewhere in the last five hundred years. Those that had gone extinct weren't included, though they could definitely be found.

Purebloods typically sought other purebloods. Very few were amenable to halfbloods, and even less took on muggleborns. There were some however, like the Longbottom and Bones clans, that would intentionally pick a muggleborn every five generations or so, just to 'keep the blood fresh'. The more shadowy-aligned families didn't do that. If nothing could be found within the country, the mainland was looked to next. Only extreme circumstances meant seeking the more distant countries in South America, or Asia. And that really took dire happenings.

But the last few years of observations had proved a few unwanted truths to the Malfoy heir. In terms of mental acuity, purebloods, especially in Slytherin were about average. Greengrass was well above that, high in intelligence, with decent power, but she required precise casting to make the most of her magic. She couldn't just throw power into her spells to make them work, unlike Finch-Fletchley (a muggleborn) or Boot (a halfer). Then again, her family almost exclusively married into other families from the continent. They were stringent in their ties, but only in that the spouse hails from a family that's been magical for at least seven generations, and no scandals in that past three.

The Blacks in counterpoint, really only intermarried between five or so families; those cast from the family not taken into account. And with the two wars in the last century, options had become limited. So the family looked ever closer. And unfortunately, it showed. Draco's aunt, Bellatrix, would be a prime example; so too would his great-aunt Walburga. Draco supposed he should glad history fell the way it did else he would have been on par with several of his fellow housemates (Flint came to mind).

That the Blacks had allowed a marriage to a Malfoy (an upstart house, and French no less) was a genius bit of work on his father's part. While the Malfoys were technically an ancient house, the Blacks were far older, with more magic attributed to their family name, and had a higher level of aristocracy. And purely _English_ , having come with the Romans almost two millennia ago. Draco was fortunate to have above-average power levels, courtesy of the Blacks not mixing with the Malfoys in some five hundred years, could accredit his intelligence to both parents, though he learned more from his mother, and possessed exceptional looks. As a child, he had seemed to take after his father, but with the advent of puberty and the onset of magical maturity, he'd definitely taken after his mother and the Black Family.

Given what his father had managed to do with their money, political power and maneuverability, in regards to the Dark Lord's covert war, Draco didn't mind at all that his Black blood was coming in stronger. Even his mother's appearance was reverting back to that of the Black's, as the Malfoy magic's hold lessened.

Black hair tossed as the Head Boy shook his head. Rumination could wait. He needed to meet with his counterpart for duties. And to work on their project. And to discuss their plan. So much to do, so little time.

In the following week after she was released, it became blatantly obvious to the _entire_ school, students and staff alike, that the Head Girl was going out of her way to avoid a certain someone. She was aided by the professors, six of whom had given Ron a week's detention each (Snape because he could, McGonagall for the incredibly unacceptable behaviour, Flitwick for the same reasons as Snape surprisingly, and profs. Vector, Sprout, and Sinistra for his boorish conduct and objections to the way he spoke to the young witch) which kept the boy busy for the majority of his nights; a number of Ravenclaw Fifth years asking questions about OWLs-prep; and several Firsties from every House asking for tips about Hogwarts and student life.

In addition to that aid, she had her own regular school schedule, and Head duties. It kept her busy and she fell asleep each night comfortably drained. The Saturday after her stay in the Infirmary Wing was a meeting between all Prefects, the two Heads and a professor. Charity Burbage was this meeting's supervisor.

"Well, obviously, costumes have to be a thing, it's a Hallowe'en Dance."

Draco resisted the urge to rub his forehead. Two of the Fifth year Prefects had begun fighting. Lillian Moon, Slytherin's Sixth year Prefect was of the opinion the two fought due to hormonal urges, but were too inept to recognise their mutual attraction.

"Are you stupid Craghter? It should be horror and scary things! Like any proper Hallowe'en."

Mandy Brocklehurst chimed in with a vote for a traditional night based on rituals and ceremonies for All Hallows' Eve. Draco liked that idea, but it was lost in the shouting that devolved between the two younger prefects.

Hermione growled under breath, transfigured a gavel and politely slammed it on the table to get everyone's attention.

Five of the prefects jumped at the sudden sound and turned to look at the Head Girl wide-eyed.

"Since none of you seem capable of being mature enough to discuss this as the leaders you are, I'll take it from here."

It was quickly outlined that the party would start at four thirty with a haunted house, there would be a costume element, and throughout the night there would be stations set up around the Great Hall for students to take part in Samhain rituals. At one minute to midnight, all westward windows would be opened and a candle placed on the ledge. Students up to Fifth had to leave by nine, and Fifth to Seventh would close just after midnight.

It was Draco who nixed the suggestion of contests of any kind. It was a harsh rejoinder, but he point-blank _refused_ to be involved, in _any_ way, in a costume contest.

Mandy offered to take on the task of creating the Samhain stations, the Fifth and Sixth years were assigned food, drinks and set up (tables, couches, dance area, etc). The seven other Seventh years, plus the Heads would work on constructing the haunted house. Sunday was spent in a meeting with the charms and transfiguration professors to discuss their idea and obtain aid if needed.

The haunted house got moved from the Great Hall to a series of classrooms on the main floor that were temporarily, magically connected. The starting path would split into four different paths pretty near the beginning, and each path took had a series of divergences that may or may not meet up with the other pathways. So hopefully no group would end up having the exact same experience. There would be small obstacles along the way, riddles, small monsters, boggarts, ghouls (all safely behind barriers), and ghastly illusions.

On Wednesday, the two Fifth Prefects _not_ fighting, visited McGonagall to get some help with set up. They wanted to use the support pillars in the Hall as secondary viewing/seating. Similar to churches throughout Europe, they desired to create staircases that wound around the pillars up to a height of four meters and then opened to a small balcony. It could be small and cosy for only two, or big enough to seat six.

For the remainder of the week Hermione focused on her schooling. All of the NEWT classes had projects starting and she didn't want to fall behind in any of them. Arithmancy would likely be the most challenging, Runes should be entertaining as it was more practical, and Charms was more heavily weighted to research, so she needed to get that all set up in her calendar.

As Saturday dawned, the sun coming up later and later, the weather cooling for the oncoming snows, Hermione enjoyed a cup of tea as she sat ensconced in a comfy, over-stuffed armchair. Idly flipping through her memorandum, she found notes that detailed what ingredients Malfoy had earmarked for his future gathering, or was in the process of obtaining.

Included was a note about the full moon starting the following Wednesday. Hermione made a mental note that she would have to speak to Professor McGonagall about the special dispensation for ingredients-gathering outside curfew. The rest of the morning was spent in further research for the shared project.

Lunch was a trip to the kitchens for a basket of food and a conjured blanket to set up on a hill overlooking the Black Lake. Hermione had long since brought a large thermos from home to carry tea throughout the day on her weekends. The worn-leather book bag had been filled with schoolbooks, a spiral notebook and a cache of pencils. The goal for the afternoon was to develop ideas and then a basic outline for her NEWT projects.

Arithmancy was still in the theoretical stage; maybe a paper about the use of arithmancy with different numerical systems. Or perhaps, the different ways in which arithmancy was used around the world based on language, culture, and divination.

Runes was a little easier, in that they had a year to create something entirely new. So far Hermione had thought of magicking muggle objects to make her parents' lives easier. Except that sort of violated the law. It was a possible idea, but she could do better.

Dinner had been going for a while when Hermione arrived. She was about to sit when McGonagall approached and handed her a folded and sealed note.

"Mr. Malfoy came to me this afternoon about a special pass for the gathering of specific ingredients for your shared potions project. This is a letter granting permission, along with a sheet you need to fill out for each occurrence. There is also a token inside. When you go out it will need to be on your person; it will be proof of permission should a teacher come across you and question your actions. I don't imagine you will, but it bears saying, don't abuse it Miss Granger."

And with that, the tall Scotswoman walked back to the Head Table. Hermione looked over to the Slytherin table to see the Head Boy sporting a smug smile. Her eyes narrowed playfully, but she dipped her head the slightest bit in acknowledgment before she sat to eat.

The evening was filled with the laughter of her friends and spent in the Gryffindor Common. It was comforting to be back in the Tower she'd spent six years in, and a group of seven students (spanning five years and all backgrounds) had 'created' some game that was an amalgamation of six separate games, magical and mundane alike.

It caused much confusion in the beginning, and more entertainment as the night wore on. People were knocked out of the game and somehow got involved from the sidelines, which had the lovely effect of making the game even more confusing.

Neville ended up winning, though going by the baffled expression on his face, not even he knew how that had been accomplished.

Monday morning came far too early, blustering winds assaulting the castle, and nearly everyone cringed as they sat at the tables. Many of them would have to brave the wild winds for classes outside the castle itself. Hermione counted herself lucky that her Mondays were Double Charms and Arithmancy in the morning, and Transfiguration in the afternoon.

In her spare period prepped for the ritual that would be used to gather liquid moonlight. In her memorandum she listed four potential spell-chants or rituals that could purify a section of land, notes on allowed clothing (all natural fabrics, undyed or white, loose and simple), and sketched an idea for the rune circle she would perform the ritual within.

Underneath all that was an array of important symbols she would need to incorporate into the runic circle; the symbol for the moon along with its associated elemental and cardinal direction, symbols for purity and magic, as well as symbols she felt defined her. Together with the runic circle they would form a request of Magic and the Moon. If she had prepared well enough and judged worthy she would get the needed component.

That evening when she opened the notebook, Malfoy had apparently browsed through her options and notified his choices. Hermione gave an indelicate snort at his audacity, but couldn't deny his choices were good ones. Still the irritation held with her, so the book was closed and the witch turned to other school magics.

Since one of the purifying rituals called for a full moon Draco performed it Wednesday night at lunar midnight, and then set up a series of temporary wards to prevent people from wandering all through the piece of earth he'd chosen. Granger would be doing the ritual, and while he didn't doubt her intellect, some magic is instinctual and learned at one's parents' knee. Mudbloods like her wouldn't understand that. _Muggleborn, gods all damn. Fuck._

In the privacy of his own damn mind he could say whatever he damn well pleased. The witch couldn't read his mind. _Mudbloods_ didn't grow up seeped in the magic of the land and its traditions. Equal opportunity schooling, fine. They needed all the magicals they could get at this point. But the magic inherent in growing up with it, in learning about how magic grew in the earth and affected each and every magical was something that many mud- and half-bloods never learned. And if they did come across it, scoffed at the 'superstitions' of the 'unenlightened'. It was arrogant and far more condescending than they ever claimed purebloods could be.

So when the dark fell across the sky Thursday evening and Granger showed up with a fancy little piece of paper on which she'd ink the runic circle and made to throw it on the ground, Draco had to stop her.

"What in the Name of Nine are you doing Granger?"

Muddy brown eyes glanced his way, "The ritual calls for the runic circle to be placed at a specific time, so I came up with this nifty little thing. Basically I've already written the circle and when it hits the prepared ground it will expand and the paper will evaporate leaving the circle engraved. It's a time-saver."

Grey eyes looked at her furiously before Draco stormed forward, snatched the piece of paper and ripped it up in front of astonished eyes.

"You really understand _nothing_ of magic do you!? Do you ever wonder why those raised in the magical world have such issues with those coming into it later? You can't do shortcuts in rituals you stupid bint, it affects the magic, and usually in a _negative_ way! Even more so when it's a supplication. Everything must be done by hand. I can't help due to the potential for mixing magic, so you'd better get carving. And hope you have another copy of your circle somewhere."

Hermione bristled and her face burned with fury when the ponce stole her rather ingenious bit of magic and ripped it to pieces. Even if his diatribe (because she had no goodwill to call it an explanation) made some sense, the anger roiled in her stomach and pulsed at her temples as she used her wand to carve the runic array into the bare earth.

When that was finished, Hermione pulled out the sheet she had transfigured into a large linen piece and then folded into a square. At two points the sides had been joined along the top, these would be the shoulders. When it was belted with a strip of fabric it would be reminiscent of the clothing women in Ancient Greece wore.

But before she could put that one, she had to be washed down. She had brought an earthenware jug, charmed to be ever-full, that she had filled with cold glacial water. While Malfoy had been purifying the ground the night before, Hermione had been on the other side of the castle grounds doing her own purifying ritual on the water in the gourd.

Malfoy was courteous and spelled a screen around her as her own spell lifted the container and held it so it emptied in a continuous stream. It was brutally cold and even the warming charm cast around the screen did little to help. But with the cold came clarity and the knowledge that she had to go of her anger with Malfoy. She couldn't go into this ritual with adverse emotions.

Hermione wouldn't be able to dry herself before she pulled on the shift, so in her preparations, she made sure to bring a Pepper Up for after the ritual was done. Hopefully it prevented any illness that may come calling.

Finally ready, Hermione stepped barefoot into the circle, closed it behind her with the last rune and stood in the centre. There was no spell to be incanted, everything was done through the runes and the strength of one's will and magic.

A phial in each hand, both spelled to be endless in a hopeful gesture, Hermione stood facing the moon, on the rise of a hill that looked over the land and lake beneath them. In one phial was a small purple and white blossom, and night-lit hands were raised to hold the offering high.

A soft wind, unsuited to the autumn weather, made the shift dance in tandem with wild hair. As it swept around the still figure Draco watched as moonlight seemed to focus on the witch in front of him and the circle in which she stood. When the light reached almost beam brightness, it appeared to warp and twist, going from an intangible image to a liquid state, flowing about and mixing with the wind as they both swirled around the witch.

Draco watched, as frozen as the girl in front of him, unaware of time passing until at last the light dimmed and the moon had fallen low in the sky. The wind had ceased and Granger held two glowing phials in her hands. Draco eased forward, but lunged when Granger suddenly dropped as if her strings had been cut. He hoped she was as thorough as everyone claimed because the phials weren't stoppered, and liquid moonlight was a rare ingredient. Easy enough in theory, but physically and magically taxing to actually obtain.

Though none of the precious liquid spilled out, Draco stoppered them and then magicked them unbreakable, slipping them into an inner pocket where they would be more protected. He pulled the unconscious girl into his lap and immediately cast several warming charms when he felt the ice that was her skin. Summoning the book bag she had brought, one clever hand rifled around until a small bottle was pulled out; a single dose of Pepper Up.

After pouring it carefully into her mouth, a small healer's spell forced the throat muscles to move, and the potion was swallowed. A area-wide warming charm was set up around them and another on Granger herself before she was hit with a feather-weight and Draco started the trip back to the castle, their belongings floating along behind him in a train.

He didn't see what had happened to the area where they performed the ritual, nor would anyone be aware of it for some time to come. For tonight, his concern was the almost-woman in his arms. Not that he was particularly concerned _for_ her, but she was in a predicament, and he had been involved to some degree, and he knew people would blame him if more went wrong.

As it was, Pomfrey scowled at him for waking her up in the wee hours of the morning. The scowl turned even angrier when she saw his burden and Draco had to bite back his own scowl and sarcastic comments. Still, after a few minutes of wand-waving and potions spelled into the unconscious form on the bed, Pomfrey sighed and flicked a Pepper-Up at the Malfoy heir. It bumped into his shoulder thrice before he actually noticed it and slugged it back.

"Ms. Granger will be staying here for the day, perhaps the coming night as well. She used a great deal of magic whatever it was she did, and she was clearly ill-prepared for the weather she was doing it in. She has something almost like pneumonia, but with a magical twist. I don't suppose you know what Ms. Granger was trying to accomplish?"

"She _did_ accomplish it. We were doing a ritual to collect liquid moonlight, and pre-ritual preparation called for a purifying bath as it were. Granger purified some glacier water and then stood in flimsy cloth for a period of several hours while the wind whipped around her."

Pomfrey narrowed her eyes at the flippant tone, but they widened when the ritual was described. She hurried to her cupboards and rifled through them until she found one bottle liberally coated in dust.

"How are your reserves Mr. Malfoy?"

Grey eyes tightened, "Full enough. I only did land-purifier over a small plot, and even that was hours ago."

"Good enough. I know you're tired Mr. Malfoy and I apologise for demanding your aid in this, but the Moon Sickness is no trifling matter. It's not common on the Isles, or even on the mainland anymore, but in the past, it was the greatest danger to young women.

"You will need to restrain Ms. Granger physically, and I will be using your core to back my own as you do not understand what exactly is needed. Do you agree?"

Draco was hesitant at the mention of sharing magic, but Pomfrey wasn't one to jest and if she thought it serious, it undoubtedly was.

"I agree." It wasn't an official accord, more like a verbal contract than a written and signed one, so it wasn't technically legal, but it suited their purposes. Draco moved to lean over the girl on the bed when the healer halted his movements.

"I'll need direct access to her body, you'll need to have her lying on top of you in order to restrain her. Don't worry about her head so much, our biggest concern is her limbs flailing after we start."

A dark head nodded and rolled the limp body on its side before he lay down and shifted the girl on top of him. Legs wrapped around hers, and he folded moon-pale arms on a barely-breathing chest before twining his own through and over hers. It would keep her mostly constrained.

Pomfrey cast a spell to begin. It was the first of many. Time passed, inconsequential to Draco, his perception distorted by the burn of magic in the air around him, and inside, as his core was leeched to aid the healer.

The mudbl-Granger, tried to thrash as the heat settled heavy around them, but her wilting strength was no match against Draco's limbs, which seemed to have locked in place in an effort to fight against the pain.

It felt like hours before the spell casting softened and the air cooled. Draco was still locked around the girl in his arms when the fireplace flared and two hazy forms came toward the bed. A spell separated the two of them, and Draco was lifted to a second bed as his eyes pulled closed.

Hermione woke to the half-light that could be dawn or twilight and suddenly understood how Harry felt every time he ended up in the infirmary wing. It was aggravating and she resolved to show more sympathy if it happened again this year (history was in her favour that it would). It took an unseemly amount of effort just to turn her head and Hermione knew that she would need to take far more precautions for whatever future rituals she did. Because she would be doing them again. Many potions had ingredients that _needed_ rituals to either gather or prepare, and there was some magic, ceremonial magic, that could only be done with rituals.

They were in their own abstract way, very powerful magic. Which of course meant the government tried to limit what people could and could not do, but those laws changed with the country, and they couldn't persecute you for doing something you hadn't done within their borders. At least, they couldn't do so legally. _Then again_ , Hermione thought over the adventures she'd shared with Harry, _not being able to do something legally had never stopped ministry officials before._

Draco was reclining in the bed next to hers. The quiet rustle of moving paper filled the air as he browsed through the day's Daily Prophet. He didn't seem aware of her gaze.

"I've been told, by several people mind, that you are no longer allowed to do rituals without someone overseeing it. And by someone, they don't mean me. An adult with a Mastery in something relevant to whatever is involved in your ritual. Or failing that, at least a professor of some kind."

Hermione flushed with embarrassment and opened her mouth to ask why they were in the infirmary, but all that came out was a raspy croak. A glass of water bumped into her hand, spelled there by Malfoy.

"You experienced something called the Moon Sickness. Appallingly blithe title, but it served well enough when it was common. I had to ask the healer from St. Mungo's, because your situation was dire enough Madame Pomfrey felt she needed an expert's view, what exactly it was."

His eyes were shaped in a glare, but curiously, they only felt warm to Hermione.

"During Europe's Dark Ages, and into the Early Renaissance, the virgin ideal, and purity, of women was of such concern that it became common for young witches to do purifying rituals with regular frequency. Some even did it once a month," here Malfoy's cheeks pinked, "Some ideology about it having to do with their monthlies…" He coughed, mortified about having to speak of such things.

"Anyway! A great many purity rituals have elements of the moon, the female celestial, in them. But the moon only comes at night, and drenching oneself in usually cold water before standing still for hours can be detrimental. Nevermind the moon being a powerful element in its own right. So many of those witches caught ill, and they couldn't be treated because the moon affected their magic so severely. As you found out. A great number of potential witches were lost because of the infectious ideals the Church spread about purity and chastity.

"That was actually one of the bigger reasons why the wizarding world pulled away from muggles. Not just the witch hunts that would come about, but the danger their ideologies presented to our way of life. Harmless to muggles, but taken to such extremes with magic to enforce those ideals hurt us so much the whole of Magical Europe entered a population decline for almost a century and a half."

Hermione sipped at her water throughout the explanation-cum-lecture. Had she not experienced it herself, she may have found such history superfluous or perhaps even a fabrication of the pureblood faction to justify moving away from those they considered beneath them. And honestly, it probably only aided their cause, but Hermione could easily see some families being greatly concerned about their daughters, or failing that marriageable daughters for their sons to continue the family line.

"I take it that it's now the evening and I've missed another day of classes then?"

"We both have. Happily, we both have people in those classes willing to share notes and homework assignments. However three professors have, in my hearing, threatened to tag you so that you'll stop pulling magically exhausting stunts like this."

A thick brown eyebrow arched, before it's possessor spoke, "You'd think they'd be used to that sort of thing given what Harry's gotten up to since he first stepped foot here."

"They, the entire school really, are used to Potter being an idiot about things and landing himself in the infirmary. _You_ are usually the 'good student' who follows the rules and doesn't endanger herself. And the few times you have been a resident here were for small things. This wasn't Granger. You genuinely worried quite a number of people."

Hermione bowed her head in shame.

"Surprisingly, one of those people was Prof. Flitwick. It was his idea to magically tag you. The others merely agreed with his plot."

A befuddled stare was her only response, but even then, the thought of her professor magically tagging her like an erstwhile pet sent her into a fit of giggles.

Draco rolled his eyes. Women. They were all insane.

Draco was released that night when Pomfrey came to check on them; Hermione was kept overnight and slept until mid-morning when she was finally allowed to leave. Because she was Hermione, despite being told to go to her rooms and rest over the weekend, she planned to see the professors of the classes she'd missed. It was her second day of missed classes in a week and a half; that was completely unacceptable.

Draco had spent the morning writing a missive about their night to his mother. Included in the message was a small phial of liquid moonlight. Granger had be-spelled her two to be endless and never-full, so he doubted she would notice if some were taken. Morrigan's Brew didn't require a great deal anyway, so the fact that the mudblood brought two enchanted containers spoke volumes about her own ideas.

The heir knew his mother would appreciate the value, if nothing else, in what he was sending. And hopefully, she would have knowledge that would aid him and his endeavors. If it persuaded Narcissa to silently pull away from Lucius and the consequences of his actions, so much the better.

He quickly crossed the path from the Owlery building to the castle proper and made his way to the central tower that housed the Head Boy and Girl. It was just his fortune that he near tripped over a body slumped against a suit of armour as he turned the corner.

It was the mudblood. Draco groaned.

"Morgana's left tit! You _stupid_ mudblood! Always think you know best don't you? Do you have any idea how much of a hassle you are? Never mind the problems you cause for _me_."

His words fell on deaf ears, but they made him feel slightly better about the situation so he didn't stop them from being spoken.

Because he was feeling a little spiteful, he cast an illusion over her day robes so that it appeared she were wearing what could be termed lingerie sleepwear, with an open robe that would cover her up had she been standing. As it was, the way it was 'draped' only served to show off the witch's legs, shoulder and décolletage. In addition to the worn appearance she had, most of the school only knew Hermione was in the infirmary (again) because of a ritual, and that Draco had been there too.

So he took the most public route he could to get back to their tower as the witch cuddled into him as he carried her. It meant he had to go a little out of his way, but since it was the midday meal on a weekend, plenty of students were still making their way to the Great Hall.

As he left the witch in her bed and moved to his own quarters, Draco smirked, full of certainty that there would be new rumors developing about what kind of ritual the Head Girl had undertaken, all of them full of speculation about why she might have done such rituals with or for the Malfoy heir.

Served the idiot Gryffindor right.

Draco decided to fuel the rumors by getting the tower's house elf to bring his meals directly to his room, and spent the rest of the day catching up on homework.

When brown eyes opened to her own room, Hermione knew she had collapsed and someone had found her and returned her to her quarters. She flushed, in absolutely no way was that humiliating. At all.

 _Gods all damn. Pomfrey_ does _actually know her job, so if she tells you to rest, it's usually because you_ need the damned rest!

Perhaps she would just spend the weekend in her room. Resting. As she had been told to do. A quick spell told her the date and time.

 _Sunday!? Had she really slept through the whole of Saturday?_ Clearly her body needed to recover more than she had expected. Calling for Twilsy, the tower's house elf, Hermione asked for a simple breakfast of broth, tea, and some toast. She also asked for the rest of the day's meals to be brought to her room.

Her day would be spent further developing her Ancient Runes project. While most magical societies that followed the Roman Traditions in terms of magic, lettering, and numerical systems, there were even more that did not. Given that arithmancy was the study of divination through numbers, wherein each number was assigned a series of letters and the name of a person, place, couple, et cetera could be calculated to obtain their cumulative potential.

Within the Romanic Tradition there were two schools of thought; Agrippan, which numbered the alphabet between 1-9, and Chaldean, which numbered from 1-8. But if you looked at other magical groups, they had created their own systems.

Asiatic sorcerers had symbols for their language, where one symbol could mean an entire word, or sometimes a whole phrase. That meant that a name could not be broken down to individual lettering for calculation. However, each name could be comprised of several symbols, a composite if you will. And certain symbols were more highly regarded. A great deal of thought went into naming children in the Orient; far more so than in the West.

Not to say that Naming was any less important to European culture, but there was grandeur in hereditary names, in succession, a history that could be afforded one based on their namesake. The Orient did follow that pattern, though they had traditions of their own.

Going more into symbology, the Aztecs and Mayans had an entirely different written language, despite still using symbols. And the Aztec numbering system was separated by base units into 1, 5, 10, 20, 1/2/300 and 400. Unfortunately, with the advent of colonialism, much of their population was wiped out, and the rest were colonised. So arithmancy was in a way something the magicals used, though it was speculated that some tribes simply went deeper into the jungles and used their vastly different magic to hide, thus keeping their traditions alive. The last European magical to come across a Sahagun was in 1583.

Most magicals today had arithmancy, in varying degrees of popularity, across the globe. A side-effect of the Age of Colonialism. Even South America had practitioners, though admittedly far less than anywhere else. Africa was just slightly below Japan, but everywhere else people adapted to the systems of those in power.

Hermione tapped a pencil to her chin, interrupting her thoughts of historic magicals and their numbers. The sad fact was that many cultures and traditions were wiped out when Europeans came to take over. But what if one created a system based on futuristic principles? Like computers and coding. Western math, taken from the Arabs, was a base-10 system. Australian Aboriginals had several languages that utilised base-5, but could binary, a system of only two numbers with 256 possible combinations, be used in arithmancy? Perhaps as a variant…

Sleep-smudged eyes stared down at the paper, focused and curious. A soft chime sounded and a tray with tea and scones appeared on the far corner of the desk. Hermione sighed and pushed her paper away. She would further develop that thought when she wasn't quite so tired.

A brief nap after her respite and Hermione returned to her desk. Giving her papers an exhausted stare, she pushed them aside in favour of the notes the prefects had left her regarding the Hallowe'en plans. A menu had been decided, as well as the drink list and snacks for the evening. Mandy had outlined the three rituals that would be scattered through the hall: Ancestor Altars, Bonfire Magic, and Magical Offerings (meant for the fair folk).

Someone had sent in a suggestion for each table to have an empty setting for the Dead. Hermione approved that, and then made changes to the drink list. As it was, all that was written down was pumpkin juice and water. Hermione had rarely celebrated Thanksgiving, but from the few times they had attended a dinner, Hermione had learned to dislike pumpkin pie. Going on seven years at a school where pumpkin juice was served at _every_ meal, had not endeared her to the taste.

As such, the drink was scratched from the list with vehemence, and in its place, mulled apple cider, tea, hot chocolate, maple cider, cranberry cocktail, and pomegranate spritzers; water stayed on the list of course. It gave a good selection to choose from, and a nice change in flavours for those who didn't grow up on pumpkin-flavoured everything.

The food list was well thought out with enough variety that everyone would find something to their liking.

The last page of notes on the festival was a simplistic map of the table settings and Samhain stations, along with a few designs for the ancestor's place at the tables. One was to have a goblet per person in the Ancestor's Place, so they could each give a sample of their drinks. Hermione nixed that in favour of a single goblet that all at the table could portion their offering into.

A large plate was next, with added enchantments so that food wouldn't spill over the edges if children became enthusiastic.

Of the ritual stations, there were four main bonfires sites, set to the cardinal points, where students could gather at the onset of twilight, and after lighting the large wooden pyres, write down a habit they wished to end, and cast it into the flames. The ritual ended with the group moving deosil around the bonfire (clockwise in modernity).

Where the professors' table usually sat would be a large Ancestral Altar. Anyone could place an image, a token, or memento of their family member amidst an array of votive candles, and speak a prayer.

There were eight stations set about the hall where students could pick and choose from a selection of delights, some sweet treats, other savory, some were meats, others pretty flowers, or shiny stones; and make a small tray to set out for the Fair Folk and All Else that came out that night. Enticing offerings to work no foul magic on them.

Hermione thought over her recent knowledge of Samhain traditions, and smiled when one fact came to the fore. She would have to speak to the castle elves and see if some were willing…. Did house elves count as a species of fair folk? If not now, perhaps in the past? What a thought. Something to ponder at a later date.

Still, if willing, one of those eight stations could be manned by a few house elves, and students choose ingredients to make small loaves of bread to leave at the front entrance of the school. Again, a gift for those unseen in the world of magic.

With those adjustments made, Hermione closed up the parchments, tied them off and called for an elf to take the documents to Draco for him to sign off and then pass to the prefects so tasks could be set out and accomplished.

Still feeling a bit drawn, Hermione looked at her stack of schoolwork before pointedly moving to the chair by the window and curled up with her copy of Beauty and the Beast, in its original French, for the remainder of the day.

The following two weeks were filled with regular schoolwork, Head duties, getting everything ready for the night of festivities, and helping younger students with their costumes.

At last, the thirty-first of October dawned and students were filled with rambunctious energy. Thankfully, given the amount of spellwork needed to create/decorate the Hall for the evening, classes ended at eleven, and lunch was over by half noon. In the three hours of set up, Flitwick and the two Heads were the last to finish. As other groups finished their part, they joined the trio to get it done faster.

A smattering of teachers who'd dressed up just a bit arrived as the group left, ready for the incoming students. Hermione was thankful she had set out her costume that morning, and was waiting for Susan, Hannah, Padma and Mandy show up so they could work on hair and makeup together in her suite.

Draco was similarly pleased that his costume required very little effort beyond putting it on.

At six, the five girls made their way down to the Hall and drew many an eye at their costumes. Hannah had been indoctrinated with steampunk, a relatively obscure bit of science fiction, by a quirky muggle friend from her hometown, and had spoken at length about it to her best friend Susan.

So the two of them were dressed up as steampunk adventurers, Susan in a loose taupe shirt that could shift from wrist to elbow length courtesy of ties, and a leather underbust corset that had attached shoulder straps for stability. Her skirt was of fine mahogany wool that gathered to just above the knee, with a sturdy belt around a cinched waist, upon which rested numerous pouches of varying size, a small case for phials and a simple brown book, attached via chain. Pale brown tights kept her legs warm and old brown flats with straps across the top to keep the shoes on her feet. Coppery curls had been swept up and pinned underneath a satin, child's size, top hat decorated in gears, all weighted down with a pair of brass goggles.

Hannah on the other hand, was wearing a pair of trousers that allowed her freedom of movement and tucked into tall boots that had three small pouches down its side. Though not as amply endowed as her friend, Hannah had needed to bind her chest in order to wear a high-necked waistcoat with leather straps in place of buttons. A simple shirt with its sleeves rolled up showed off leather bracers, one hand in a fingerless glove, and the opposite arm with a cuff around her bicep, a pocket on the outer edge.

Across her torso was a bandolier of phials, and around her waist a belt similar to Susan's, though Hannah's had a saber on one side, and an intricate pistol on the other. Blonde tresses were twined into two simple braids, and a newsboy cap was perched on her head.

Mandy was the Faerie Queen for the night, a beautiful gown of golden orange that faded into reds and purples and deep nighttime blue at the hem. A simple gold sash split the gown and gave some shape to the otherwise free-flowing fabric, while a queen-Anne neckline gave the top of the dress an understated elegance with its hardened lace shoulders and high collar. On her back a pair of translucent orange and gold butterfly wings were affixed, charmed to gently flutter every so often. The train of the dress had a myriad of flowers that followed the changing colour of the gown. Plain brown hair had been charmed longer and spelled into loose fly-away curls. A flower crown adorned her head.

Padma was, of them all, the least recognizable. She'd had to coordinate with the Twins to get the base element of her costume, but the bare bones of it meant the product removed pigment from her hair, skin and eyes. She had a shower to wash the potion over her body and the magic took care of the rest. When she came out of the bathroom the other girls all exclaimed over the temporary change.

"Goodness Padma, I hadn't expected you to look quite so different!"

"No doubt everyone'll be able to tell you and Parvati apart tonight."

The Ravenclaw smiled at the two 'Puffs before looking at her new skin tone and huffing, "It's still not quite as light as I was aiming for. I know it's certainly a change from my normal tone, but I just look like white witch who saw a bit of sun."

Hermione twirled her wand, outfit already on. Beyond a hairstyle and some makeup, hers was the easiest done.

"Well, we could use charms for the rest. You've got the base down, and let's be honest, even if _Susan_ had gone for your costume she'd still have to do this. The kind of white you want isn't actually natural in humans Padma," Hermione admonished her with a grin.

The four teens stood around their friend and cast spell after spell to turn Caucasian pink into ephemeral white. Hannah was the one to add a pearlescent sheen that would glimmer when the light hit just right. Honey gold strands that fell past a trim waist turned silver white and were charmed into loose waves that almost seemed to ripple. Pale hazel eyes were colour-jinxed to a terrifying bright silver-grey that made their possessor look inhuman, and beaten flakes of silver were artfully arranged on delicate features, with diamond dust to add to the look.

Padma's dress was a stark white so pure it almost gave off a light of its own. It was a modified A-line, the skirt draping to the floor, covered in lace that was magically patterned to look like frost crystals. A sheer cape was attached around the neckline of the dress, covering bare arms but showing off the graceful wings of her collarbones. The cape trailed behind like a veil in the breeze and the bottom was charmed to dissipate into miniature flurries.

A blue-silver choker of embroidered brocade with satin ruffles along the bottom edge and a bow on one side completed the outfit.

Hermione had her hair charmed to a dark brown-black and spelled into a mass of tiny curls. Carmine lipstick brought attention to her mouth, and simple but effective eye makeup showed off entrancingly dark eyes. Her dress was a gypsy broom skirt, a patchwork piece in varying shades and patterns of red, with some brown and black mixed in. The shirt was made of undyed fabric, with a scoop neckline and modified Marie sleeves that ended mid-forearm. Overtop that was what looked like a small black corset, though it wasn't truly, and allowed for much more movement than Susan's would. She wore no shoes, but the anklet on each foot had small bells that tinkled as she moved, and were enchanted to keep her feet warm.

She was Carmen, though Hermione knew that very few if any, would recognise her as such. She could try singing Habanera, but she wasn't much of a singer. She enjoyed dance as a child, and still took lessons come summer, but she'd always been in the back and had never been comfortable on a stage with all the focus on her.

The younger years had been there for a few hours, making their way through, and enjoying, the haunted house and some easy games orchestrated by the Sixth Year Prefects.

As the last of the students entered the Hall and took their seats, Dumbledore stood to make the pre-meal announcements. He wore an eye-gouging outfit of neon orange, with random patterns in matching neon green and yellow. An electric blue feathered boa wound around his shoulders and neck, and his once silver tresses were a vivid purple. His beard was a blinding pink.

"Students! Welcome to our first Samhaim Night Festival! Through the efforts of your two Head Students and their team of Prefects, tonight, whether you have celebrated before or not, you will get a taste of some magical traditions.

"If I may have our two Head Students stand up and explain the festivities to us?"

Hermione stood at the same time as Draco, both moving to a centre point to speak to the assembled school. The muggleborn took a subtle second glance at her fellow Head's costume; it was completely done in black, with gloves, knee high boots, and a bandana that covered the top half of his head, with holes for his eyes. The only thing that wasn't black was the glimmering rapier at his hip.

Hermione paused for a brief moment trying to figure out why he looked so familiar, and Malfoy took the opportunity to speak first.

"Welcome my fellow students, to this special night of All Hallows Eve! We decided to host this night in an attempt to showcase some magic that many might not be aware of, due to limitations or ignorance. But as we are a school, ignorance can be left behind if we but teach those learnings to receptive minds."

Hermione wanted to roll her eyes at Malfoy's barely concealed agenda. Still, it sounded nice and inclusive for the muggle-born or -raised and gave them something in common (beyond magic itself) with the grew-up-in-the-wizarding-world students.

It was Hermione's turn to speak.

"As many of you have noticed, the tables have been set up differently. In place of the Head Table for our teachers and other Hogwarts staff, we have set up an Ancestral Altar. If you brought a photo or token or memento of a family member, and you _all_ should have been made aware of this through your Common Room Notice Board," She looked fiercely over the room and many a student ducked their head in embarrassment, "You can place your item on the Altar, speak a prayer and light a candle."

Draco stepped forward, "At each table you will find one place setting that cannot be taken by any body. This is the Ancestor's Place, where you can give a portion of your food and drink in offering to those who came before you. Please don't get overly enthusiastic about giving the food, there are enchantments to keep the plates and goblets from spilling over, but have a sense of decorum for this custom." His gaze mostly fell on Gryffindors and the younger students.

As he stepped back beside Granger, she spoke about their big opening.

"Before our meal however, we'd like to open the night with a spectacular Bonfire Ceremony!"

She raised to hands high, and at their pinnacle four enormous bonfires, unlit, appeared in the cardinal directions.

"If you could all gather at one of the four bonfires, when twilight comes each circle will light their pyre. At this point you may write down a habit or something about yourself you'd like to change in the coming year, and cast it into the flames. We'll move around the pyre in a doesil fashion-"

Draco coughed and gave her a look when Hermione glared at him. She did roll her eyes this time.

"In a _clockwise_ fashion, and the ritual ends upon returning to your starting point."

Everyone found a spot around the large pyres, students mixing with staff and all the houses jumbled together. No incantation was said to the light the bonfires, but every wand was out and in a spectacular show of willed magic, a first for many of the young students, flames sparked of the wood and licked upwards into a roaring conflagration.

After little bits of parchment were written on and tossed in, everyone once again sat down at their tables.

"As you may have noticed there are stations scattered throughout the room. Seven of the eight are for picking out sweetmeats, savoury delights, flowers, or interesting stones. When a tray has been filled up, it will be set at the edge of the Forbidden Forest in an offering to the Fair Folk.

"The last station is one where you can pick your ingredients to make a small loaf of bread. The wonderful house elves of Hogwarts will turn your ingredients into bread and you can place the your loaves on the front steps of Hogwarts, again in offering."

Draco finished their spiel, "At nine o'clock students Fourth Year and down hit curfew and must return to their dorms. The remaining Years can stay until just before midnight, at which point we'll inform you of the final ritual of the night."

Cringing inside, but keeping a pleasant expression on his face, Draco looked over the students, "There will be dancing so make sure you have a partner, but most of all, enjoy tonight! And experience some magical traditions."

As they sat down, menus faded into being on the tables and everyone picked out their meal choices. Chatter in the Hall was lovelier than ever, comments about costumes being the most overheard topic.

By the seventh hour, most students had finished and many, especially the younger years and those of muggle stock, had migrated from station to station to experience a magic different from their day-to-day classes.

Hermione finished her dinner and went to the Ancestral Altar to place carefully carved duplicates of her great-grandfather's war medals. He was a family legend, having snuck into the army at 15 and was assigned to an aircrew, where he became a pilot by complete fluke. He survived the war to fall in love and marry a young woman from the country. And when war came again, he did his duty, though his wife and children begged him not to. At 40, he rejoined the RAF, still fit and capable. He was well-respected by his fellow pilots and crew, but in just under a year, he was gunned down in the Battle of Britain.

Hermione looked at the medals; a 1914-15 Star and a Victory Medal from the First World War, a 1939-45 Star, an Air Crew Europe Star, and the Victorian Cross. She murmured a prayer for her courageous ancestor and asked that he give her strength to do her duty, to the school and in the coming fight with Voldemort. A thin tallow candle was lit with a tap of her wand and she went back to her table.

Grabbing one of the professors' leftover dessert menus, she noticed there was a few alcoholic options and tapped one. It appeared in front of her and she raised it high before taking a swill.

Through the evening, enchanted seashells had been playing music that blended into the background, but as the headmaster stood, it faded away completely.

"And now it is time for dancing! According to tradition, it is the hosting lord and lady who perform the first dance. Since it was they who organised this exemplary occasion, I would ask our Head Boy and Head Girl to open the dancing!"

Draco bit back a groan, he didn't want to dance with the mudblood. She'd pissed him off enough in the last week and a half alone. He didn't want to have to lead her fumbling attempts at formal dance.

Still, he stood, every inch of him poised and gracious. It was expected, it could help solidify their ruse, _and_! it would piss the Weasel off, which was always fun. It would also be a finger in Parkinson's eye.

He strode to where Granger was sitting and bowed deeply, far more deeply than he really should given her blood status, and proffered a hand. Draco did his best not to let his surprise show that not only had the witch waited for him to escort her, as per wizarding protocol, but that she even managed to move with some measure of grace. He knew she was uncomfortable with the entire school watching her, especially in a setting where she wasn't the best; and reading a book didn't always satisfy. But with her head held high, she looked him the eyes and followed him to the floor.

In a fit of irritation Draco conjured a single paper sunflower and offered it to his partner. He knew more than a few students would connect it with the bouquet the Head Girl had received not that longer ago from a 'secret admirer'. When her eyes narrowed, Draco knew she'd made the connection as well.

Before she could say anything, Draco pulled her close and the music began as he took the first step.

"…Wizards have The Princess Bride?"

Draco stared her down. It didn't work.

"I have no idea what you're talking about Granger."

"So you aren't dressed as the Dread Pirate Roberts?"

"Of course not."

"…Right…And _where_ did pureblooded heir to the Malfoy line come across a muggle story?"

"I'm more curious about your sudden ability to dance."

Cinnamon brown eyes glared at him, "It's not sudden. I danced perfectly well during the Yule Ball three years ago. If I hadn't, I imagine the news reports would have had something to say about it, given my date that night was Victor Krum. You remember him, don't you?"

Her smile had turned saccharine and Draco forced a grin. That still smarted. Knowing the song was coming to a close, Draco spun the witch around before almost savagely dipping her at the final crescendo.

Hermione stared up at him, eyes wide and the suddenness of the move, hands clutching his shoulders so as not to fall if he let go. He smirked at her but before she could do anything he pulled her up, stepped back, bowed low once more, and kissed the back of her hand.

With all eyes on them, Hermione had no other option but to curtsy. She made it mockingly low.

The two were startled by the applause that sounded after they finished. Draco noted that several Hufflepuff witches were staring at them with hearts in their eyes. Duffers really did have fluff between their ears, if they actually thought he and Granger were a thing. Or maybe he really was just _that_ good an actor. The Nine knew Granger wasn't.

Students came in pairs as the music continued, and throughout the night bodies danced and moved about the tables, paying their respects to ancestors or giving gifts to the Fae. It was fairly subdued given the Wizarding world's usual propensity for extravagance and overindulgence, but the new experiences were surprisingly popular, especially with the younger students and those who didn't grow up in the magical community.

When the ninth bell struck, the Seventh Year Prefects escorted students Fourth Year and under back to the dormitories, while the remainder of the student body continued to enjoy the festivities. Smaller groups and couples had wandered into enchanted alcoves that gave the illusion of balconies overlooking a labyrinthine garden. It allowed for private conversations and regarding couples, privacy if they wanted to be affectionate with each other.

Not everyone stayed until midnight, but for those who did, in the minutes before the first stroke of midnight, those who were still in attendance were called back, and the west-facing windows were opened. Though the wind wasn't gusting, it was strong enough to be noticeable, ruffling more than a few outfits.

At the first stroke of midnight, magic spun out to simultaneously light every candle, and they flickered ominously until the final bell rung out when a gust surged through the windows and carried the flames away until the disappeared.

Professor McGonagall gave the closing remarks of the evening and reminded everyone that this was the first Hogsmeade Weekend of the year, and permission slips needed to be turned in by eleven o'clock the next morning, at the latest!

With that, bodies streamed through the great wooden doors as students returned to their dorms, the floating candles dimmed as the Hall emptied until with the passing of the headmaster, they went dark.

Hermione ended up walking back with Draco, lost in her thoughts, but satisfied with how the evening had passed. It had been fun researching magical traditions and getting the 'insider's perspective' as it were from the purebloods she worked with.

In fact, she was so pleased with how everything had turned out, Hermione leaned over and pecked her counterpoint on the cheek as she wished him goodnight, knowing it drive Malfoy spare to determine her rationale for doing so. With a smug little grin hidden from the wizard, the Head Girl went into her suite and got ready for bed. So far, he had been calling a lot of the shots. It was time the Gryffindor stepped up to the plate.

/End Part I

A/N: Again, I apologise for taking so long. Let me know what you think of the rewrite so far. Also if any of you have guesses as to why the title is what it is, I'd love to hear them :)

August


	2. Chapter 2: Costume links for Hallowe'en

Links to visuals for Hallowe'en costumes. Can also look up blackpantheon on instagram; she was the one who helped me put together the outfits and compiled the visual archive for the story.

Padma: p/Bst_2gvng7n/

Susan: p/Bst_RCon6bJ/

Hannah: p/Bst-3_HmdK/

Mandy: p/Bst-orrn0it/


End file.
